


Your Voice Calls Me Home

by topleaf



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25659901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topleaf/pseuds/topleaf
Summary: Thorin speaks his name, his deep voice cracking and breaking over those two sacred syllables. His eyes are still trapped by a curtain of darkness, and his tired legs bound by an unseen force, but he needs to find Bilbo again. He needs Bilbo.In which Thorin slips into a coma after the battle, teetering on the edge of death, and it's Bilbo's voice that saves him.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 28
Kudos: 262





	Your Voice Calls Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> I first got inspired by [this amazing fanvid](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=llvy-tAhNDg) and the song used in it, so you might find little hints of it in here. I highly recommend the song and video (prepare your heart though).
> 
> This was a bit experimental for me so let me know what you think in the comments!

* * *

His voice is the first thing Thorin hears in what feels like an age, and it’s music to his ears. Sweet, sorrowful music starting out as an echo, like a distant dream, like the lingering notes of a harp song. It crescendos over hills and valleys, becoming the clear familiar lullaby etched in Thorin’s heart, and it is right in front of him but still out of reach. 

Thorin struggles to open his eyes, he tries to move his limbs to follow his voice. He wants to see him. He wants to reach out and touch him. 

The voice is pleading now, thick and trembling. The voice of his strong, courageous burglar. His  _ hope _ . Thorin wants to hold him, help piece him back together and see the bright-eyed, brave hobbit smiling again.

He hears him, but Thorin can’t make out his words. It’s his heart he hears, as if his cheek is pressed against his hobbit’s chest, listening to the sweet thrum of the heart that Thorin failed to cherish and protect. Bilbo is alive, but his heart is cleaved in two. Thorin can  _ hear  _ it. He can  _ feel  _ it. It reverberates through him even stronger than when Bilbo had first sung his lullaby to him in Thranduil’s dungeons, Thorin’s only comfort when he was alone and tortured by the shadows beginning to grow in his mind.

He remembers the life dying from Azog’s eyes and a black river of blood staining the ice. The Dwarves, Elves, and Men triumphing over the evil that threatened to take away everything Thorin loved and fought for yet again. He remembers his chest caving in, his stomach punctured and soaked in crimson. Cold, trembling hands. Soft hands wrapped in his own. Bilbo’s face merely inches away, unspoken words hanging by a mere thread, but Thorin sees the desperation in Bilbo’s eyes. He grips his hand so tightly, as if he can stop Thorin from slipping away. 

His hobbit forgives him. He refuses to believe that Thorin is fighting for every last breath. He wants Thorin to live even after what happened on the ramparts, after Thorin only led him into a world of hurt and peril. He doesn’t know Thorin is holding on to every last moment so he can look at Bilbo, allowing himself this final selfish wish: having Bilbo near, knowing he loves him too, though neither of them can say it out loud. How could they, when it is already too late?

How unfair it is, that only now Thorin realizes Bilbo is the other half of his heart. The eagles circle the grey sky above them like a halo of hope, so close but out of reach. If more people were like Bilbo, the world would be a merrier place. 

He’s lost his voice again. Thorin speaks his name, his deep voice cracking and breaking over those two sacred syllables. His eyes are still trapped by a curtain of darkness, and his tired legs bound by an unseen force, but he needs to find Bilbo again. He needs Bilbo. 

_ I lost my way, twice. _

Thorin steps into the burglar’s home. He would not have been so late if he hadn’t waited on his doorstep, listening to the joyful song and laughter of his kin. His entrance ends the merrymaking, and Gandalf introduces them. Thorin hears his name for the first time. 

_ So, this is the hobbit.  _

His first words to the person who now means everything to him. Their first meeting is embedded in his mind, just like his speech after the goblin tunnels, and the first time he held him in his arms. Memories in the cavernous halls of Erebor, Bilbo caring for a weak and disgraceful shadow of a King, blinded by the veil of greed and spite, too weak to fight the shadows that now fully consume his mind.

_ I will not risk this quest for the life of one burglar. _

A blade pressing against Bilbo’s chest. His own hands shoving Bilbo’s back into the pale stone of the ramparts. Bilbo’s wounded expression carves deep into Thorin’s chest and burns into the inside of his eyelids. He is terrified, confused, heartbroken. Thorin doesn’t deserve Bilbo’s love. He has to let himself leave. Leave  _ him _ . It is better this way, with Bilbo safe and happy, and he will go back to his home, the place where Thorin tore him away. He has to let go, like he did on Ravenhill, when he kept his eyes fixed on Bilbo’s pleading, blood-flecked face until darkness enveloped him. Now he is tortured by the confines of his mind, unable to walk, to see, to touch… has he not suffered enough? Was it too much of a mercy to allow him to go to The Halls of Waiting peacefully, surrounded by love? 

_ I am glad to have shared in your perils, Thorin, each and every one of them. _

The familiar lilt of his voice is so faint, but it plants a seed in Thorin’s mind. It sprouts despite the shadow, and it grows and grows until it becomes a great oak tree. Thorin finds the strength to sit up, and he finds himself on a soft bed of grass. Blurs of green form rolling hills, and the great oak tree shelters him from the blaring sun. A pair of woolly feet stick out from the base of the trunk, and smoke rings drift through the refreshing spring air.

Thorin’s heart flutters when he hears Bilbo’s voice, singing his lullaby. Thorin lifts one heavy foot, and then the other, pressing forward even though his knees are shaking like he’s learning how to walk again. It feels like an age until his feet are light and his legs are strong, and the cool touch of grass makes him realize he’s barefoot. He spreads his hand over the oak tree’s trunk and feels the rough scrape of its weathered bark as he walks around it, Bilbo’s lullaby loud and clear, chasing away the shadows.

“Bilbo,” Thorin says, and this time it’s not only him who hears it. 

The hobbit whips around, pipe dropping from his mouth and tumbling into the grass. Tears well up in Bilbo’s eyes and he throws himself at Thorin, babbling frantically, running those soft hands over every inch of Thorin’s face, smoothing over the scar that cuts through his brow. He is gentle and careful, and Thorin feels as if he could let go of all his strength and float away, but Bilbo could hold him and ground him with the strength of his heart alone. 

Thorin holds Bilbo’s face in his palms and thumbs over his cheeks, noticing how much younger he looks than when they had reached the end of their quest. Bilbo is safe, and content, and  _ happy _ in the Shire, his home, his—

“Please don’t go,” Bilbo says suddenly, his face greying and the lines under his eyes deepening. “If you leave me now I’ll truly never forgive you for it. Please hold on, Thorin, if you can hear me, please just…”

“What? Bilbo, I’m here,” Thorin says, but he doesn’t hear the words come out. “Can you hear me, Bilbo?”

Bilbo gives no reaction to his words, his eyes are rimmed with red, a dark bandage forms on his brow under curls matted with sweat. His hands slip away from Thorin’s face and Thorin reaches out for them, but they pass right through.

“This isn’t fair, it should have been me instead, not you when you just got your home back.” Bilbo shakes his head. “You deserve to be happy, Thorin. I want you to live for my own selfish reasons too, of course, because I don’t want to exist in a world without you in it, but most of all you need to live to see your home restored. You need to continue living for...for the people who love you, your nephews, your sister, your kin, and—please Thorin, please try, I don’t care if I’m being selfish. I...I love you.”

It’s as if the words are being ripped out of him and weakening him, leaving him vulnerable. His soft features are sunken and pale, exhausted and sleepless, and he’s ringing his hands and Thorin can’t do anything to comfort him.

“Bilbo, if you can hear me,” Thorin pleads. “I want you to hold on to me as tightly as you can. Please hold me and don’t let go. I want to tell you I feel the same, but I fear it is too late. Please, Bilbo, hear me…”

Without another word, Bilbo’s eyes widen and he reaches for Thorin again, soft hands clasping his, then clambering for his arms and his shoulders, and he buries his face in his chest. 

The world tilts and Thorin finds himself lying down with Bilbo draped across him, the sky morphing into deep red and black. All at once, Thorin’s eyes crack open and a shuddering breath is pulled from him. The warm weight on his chest is lifted, and the same Bilbo from before is blinking up at him, his brow furrowing.

Thorin speaks his name, and Bilbo’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

“Oin! Balin!” Bilbo shouts, and it pierces Thorin’s ears and shocks him back into reality. Bilbo turns back to Thorin, holding his hands against his chest, grounding him. “Don’t move, alright?”

“Are you real?” Are the words that slip out of Thorin’s mouth.

Bilbo lets out a shaky breath. “Yes, Thorin, I’m real, I’m here.” He presses one of Thorin’s palms to his cheek. “Please, lie still. I can’t...I can’t lose you again.”

Oin and Balin are rushing across the room, muttering to each other as they rustle through herbs and bandages.

“Did I die?” Thorin whispers. 

“No, but you were close,” Bilbo grimaces. “You’ve been unconscious for four days.”

Thorin swallows, throat clicking dryly. Bilbo reaches for a cup of water immediately and holds it against Thorin’s lips.

“I could hear you,” Thorin says. “I  _ saw _ you…”

“Drink, please.” Bilbo grips the back of Thorin’s neck, gently helping guide the water into his mouth.

Usually Thorin would coil away and refuse this sort of help, but it was Bilbo, and he was cradling him, holding him close and caring for him. It made all the pain much easier to bear.

“This is a bloody miracle, laddie,” Balin says, moving to place a comforting hand on Thorin’s shoulder. “Bilbo here never left your side.” He raised his bushy white eyebrows  _ very _ pointedly.

“Balin.” Bilbo glares at the old dwarf.

“Oh for Durin’s sake, Bilbo, don’t even try to deny it,” Balin snaps. “Tell Thorin how you feel or I’ll truly go mad. We’ll  _ all _ go mad. I’ll leave you to it.”

“What?” Bilbo asks incredulously, staring at Balin as he strides out of the tent.

A tense silence falls onto the room, the only sound being the shuffles of Oin changing Thorin’s bandages and applying some sort of paste.

Bilbo finally faces Thorin again, eyes wide, terrified.

“I’ll just be a wee moment, lads,” Oin says. 

“Take your time,” Bilbo mutters.

Thorin lets his gaze sweep over every inch of Bilbo’s face, the face of the person who holds his heart. He can hardly wait another moment.

Oin bows subtly and makes his exit. Bilbo draws in a huge breath and opens his mouth. “I believe Balin wants me to tell you some of the things he regrettably heard me uttering to you while you were unconscious, but I am quite the coward, and I really don’t think you necessarily need to know, especially right now when you simply need to rest, but I am so glad you’re alive, Thorin Oakenshield, so very glad, and I am not one to pray but I have found myself praying to every god and deity I’ve ever heard of, and I’m not sure what I’ve done to be graced with the joy of seeing your blue eyes again, so—”

“Bilbo,” Thorin stops him. “Bilbo, please, calm down.”

The hobbit’s mouth snaps shut. Thorin reaches for his cheek again and Bilbo helps him hold it there.

“I already know,” Thorin says softly. “I heard you while I was unconscious. It was like a dream, and I had to fight through the shadows to reach you, and then I woke up here.”

Bilbo tries to laugh it off, but he leans closer as if he can’t resist. “How poetic of you.”

“I’m being serious.” Thorin winces slightly as he brings his other hand up to gently cup Bilbo’s face, letting his fingertips brush over his ears. With each brush of his thumbs, Bilbo seems to sigh and relax, leaning closer. “You have given me hope where this is none, even now.”

Bilbo gulps, unblinking, and he’s so close now that Thorin feels his breath on his lips. “What do you mean?” He whispers.

“That you are a light in my life, a precious gift that I am undeserving of, someone I cherish greatly,” Thorin breathes out, and his eyes flicker to Bilbo’s lips. “Without you, I would not have—”

“Oh, stop babbling and kiss me already you—”

Bilbo doesn’t even finish before he closes the space between them, pressing his soft lips to Thorin’s. Thorin lets out a sigh against Bilbo’s mouth, making Bilbo reach forward and dig his fingers into Thorin’s mane of hair, deepening the kiss, and Thorin is overwhelmed with the scent of his hobbit, wanting to feel, to taste, to touch every inch of him as Bilbo’s tongue flicks along Thorin’s bottom lip. Thorin tilts his chin up and slides his hands down Bilbo’s neck and chest, groaning into his mouth, Bilbo pressing his knee against Thorin’s thigh as he hoists himself onto the cot. Thorin jerks and winces as a searing pain shoots up his side, and Bilbo breaks the kiss.

“Well, that was something,” Bilbo says, licking his lips. “Stupid of me to get carried away. Here, let me check.”

“I’m fine,” Thorin mumbles, trying to bring Bilbo’s lips back to his, but he winces again.

“You stubborn sod, I’m not letting you bleed out, especially after what just happened,” Bilbo squirms out of Thorin’s grasp. “I’d very much like to kiss you again in the near future.”

“I am not bleeding,” Thorin says, and finds himself already missing Bilbo’s warmth.

Bilbo’s hands flit over Thorin’s skin, skimming the edges of the bandages. “Looks like you might’ve just strained something.” He sighs and shakes his head. 

“Come here, Bilbo,” Thorin says, and Bilbo hesitantly obeys, sitting next to Thorin and grasping his hands again. 

“Right, what were you going to say before I so rudely interrupted?” Bilbo smirks.

Thorin’s chest swells, his heart is singing, and he breathes out the words. “I love you too.”

Bilbo freezes. Then his expression turns from surprise, to disbelief, to confusion, as if Thorin hadn’t been risking injury to have Bilbo closer, to taste him deeper, just moments before. 

“I thought I had made that quite clear,” says Thorin.

“Indeed, it’s just,” Bilbo frowns. “I can’t believe it.”

“Can you not? I don’t believe it is difficult to fall in love with someone like you.”

Bilbo actually  _ laughs  _ at that. “I would say the same to you! I truly can’t believe you’re not already taken.”

“Of course not, Bilbo, my heart is yours,” Thorin says, and he’s not sure if it’s the effect of medicine or something else that makes these words pour out so easily. “You’re the other half of my heart.”

Bilbo begins giggling uncontrollably. “I’m sorry, but that’s just so...where did this sappiness come from, Thorin? Are you quite alright?”

Though Bilbo is laughing, it begins to weigh on Thorin that maybe Bilbo had not been ready for Thorin to hear all the things he’d muttered while he thought Thorin couldn’t hear. 

Bilbo tightens his grip on Thorin’s hand as if he can read Thorin’s expression perfectly, hear his thoughts. “You really could hear me while you were asleep?”

Thorin nods. “I’m sorry to burden you with this, Bilbo. I believe your words are what called out to me and saved me, just like when it broke me out of the sickness.”

His words hang in the air, until a smile spreads on Bilbo’s face and he touches Thorin’s cheek. “Then you truly know how much I love you.”

“Yes,” Thorin breathes out a sigh of relief. “Amrâlimê.”

Bilbo leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to Thorin’s lips, and rests his forehead against his. “I can’t believe it took you almost  _ dying  _ to finally make us say it out loud.”

Thorin rumbled with laughter. “We are both stubborn.”

“Thank goodness.” Bilbo smiled. “Now, I should let you sleep.”

“Likewise. You look exhausted, Bilbo,” Thorin caresses his cheek. “And you’ve got a wound on your head. Who did that to you?”

“An orc, I would presume,” Bilbo says, then moves away to draw the blankets over Thorin’s front. “Don’t worry about me.”

He blows out the candles, fumbling in the dark to refill the cup of water and bring it to Thorin’s bedside. Thorin’s eyes flutter closed against his will, and he hears the creak of Bilbo settling into a cot nearby. Thorin grins to himself at the knowledge that Bilbo had ordered a cot to be set beside his own, and that he had truly stayed by his side all this time. 

“Bilbo,” he says. “Will you sing that lullaby of yours?”

A pause. “You heard that too?” Thorin hears the wince in Bilbo’s voice.

“Do not be embarrassed. You sang it for me in Thranduil’s dungeons, remember?”

“Yes, of course I remember,” Bilbo huffs. “I’ve been embarrassed about it ever since.”

Thorin wants nothing but to speak with Bilbo for the rest of his life. He is thankful for the chance that it may be possible now, but sleep pulls at him.

“Please?” Thorin manages.

“I wonder what the others would say if I told them I’m singing you to sleep,” Bilbo chuckles. Then he clears his throat. “Oh, alright, anything for you I suppose.”

Bilbo’s soft, simple voice seeps into Thorin’s mind and heart, wrapping around him like the warmest blanket. A sweeter melody than even a harp could play, lulling him into a deep, restful sleep, where he hopes to dream of Bilbo’s soft hands and lips, and then wake to find his radiant hobbit smiling once again.

**Author's Note:**

> Say hi to me on [tumblr!](https://raventhorin.tumblr.com/)


End file.
